It Begins Like This
by ObsessivelyOdd
Summary: There's only one thing he's learnt from this: abandonment hurts far worse than any betrayal.


_**A/N: So, again, Thank Black Lighted Clouds for me posting this one. :)**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.**_

_**WARNINGS: Self-harm, depression, possible suicide, depending on how you define suicide…**_

-o-O-o-

It begins like this:

He went to bed early, exhausted after spending a week catching up on work he missed instead of sleeping.

His dreams are noisy, full of bumps and crashes and bangs, the sounds of the waking world intruding on his peaceful unconsciousness.

In the early hours of the morning, the front door opens and closes.

He awakes to silence, and an empty house.

"Jack?" he calls. His voice seems unnaturally loud, echoing in such a way that he just knows that she isn't there.

"She must have gone to the shops," he thinks, and settles down to watch TV and wait for her return.

Twelve hours later he's still waiting.

-o-O-o-

It's not until the next morning that he realises that all her things are gone. Her bedroom is neat, just the furniture left and closer inspection reveals what had been bothering him yesterday. Jack's vase is gone from beside the TV. So are a dozen other smaller things, including several photo frames belonging to her. He will later find the photos in a draw in the kitchen. Most of them are of him, with Jack or Ian or sometimes both.

He wishes he knew where she was.

-o-O-o-

He tries to call her. Her phone rings and rings and eventually goes to voicemail, but the fact that it rang at all is all the encouragement he needs to keep calling.

Eventually, she answers.

"Jack!" he exclaims, so, so relieved to hear her alive, and calm. It's perfectly obvious that she's safe and well and immediately a dozen imagined worst case scenarios collapse into dust.

"Alex, why have you called me?"

For a moment, Alex is struck dumb by confusion. She's his guardian, the closest thing he has to family. Why _wouldn't_ he call?

"I- I was worried for you," he admits.

There is a sigh on the other end of the line. "I'm fine, Alex. Don't call me again."

The line goes dead.

He calls again, but there's no answer. The next time he tries, his number has been blocked.

-o-O-o-

It takes two weeks and a mission for the truth to sink in.

MI6 must know. It seems impossible that they don't, that they didn't know as soon as she started making plans.

Still, they don't mention it when he's called in to see them. He doesn't bring it up. He doesn't try to say no to the mission. If he changes anything at all, he'll have to admit that she's gone.

It's when he gets back, bruised and bleeding and with wounds on his soul and there's no Jack to pick up the pieces, that he finally realises.

_She's not coming back._

-o-O-o-

It doesn't help him. There's nothing good he can gain from this. She's simply gone. She didn't leave a note, nothing to prove she loved him. She simply walked out one night and he still doesn't know why.

There's only one thing he's learnt from this. Abandonment hurts far worse than any betrayal.

He just wishes he knew why she left.

He just wants her to come back.

-o-O-o-

It ends like this:

He didn't go to bed that night. Or that night before.

The night before that he thinks he nodded off on the sofa for an hour, but it doesn't really matter.

It's been a year since she left, and slowly life has been leeched out of his world. Sounds are flat to his ears, colours bleed away to leave behind monochrome. He can't remember the taste or smell of food. Hot and cold, soft and hard, all feel the same to him.

Only pain makes a difference.

The knife in his hand isn't anything special, but it does the job.

His blood is the colour of her hair and sometimes he wonders if that's the reason he does this. The emotional pain of the reminder hurts far, far more than any mere cut could.

He doesn't want to kill himself. He might have nothing to live for, but he's no reason to die either. He's essentially stuck in limbo, with no way out.

Nevertheless, he can feel that he is dying. Maybe he cut too deep, or just one cut too many, but he can feel the life drain out of him, like it drained out of the world so long ago.

It doesn't hurt. It feels almost peaceful. Or maybe the numbness has simply come back.

He'll be dead by morning.

By the time someone realises he hasn't shown up to school, and should have, it will be too late.

If Jack had been there, she would have found him and saved him.

Then again, if Jack had been there, it would never have gone this far.

MI6 sent her away, because of the risk she posed to their secret weapon.

Because they did, their secret weapon is dead.

Jack will never learn what happened.

-o-O-o-

_**A/N: So, review and tell me what you thought?**_


End file.
